The United States is losing its cinematic perch, and the alarm bells aren’t just industry chatter—they’re a signal that a long-standing economic and cultural engine is sputtering. What we’re witnessing is not a sudden crisis but the culmination of a slow drift: productions fleeing to more generous subsidies abroad, a thinning of American production infrastructure, and a policy environment that struggles to keep pace with a globalized industry. Personally, I think the deeper question is not where shoots are happening, but what kind of national commitment we want to show to our storytelling ecosystem—and to the workers who power it.
The most striking numbers are both stark and telling. Nearly half of all film and scripted series shot last year took place outside the United States. Los Angeles County, long the nerve center of American film and TV, shed more than 42,000 entertainment jobs from 2022 to 2024. And the big players—Paramount Skydance, Warner Bros. Discovery—combined for just 15 theatrical movies filmed in the U.S. over the previous two years. These aren’t footnotes; they are a barometer of a market that’s been incentivized to export production rather than shore it up here at home. What this really suggests is a structural tilt: capital and talent seeking friendlier subsidies, better tax credits, and easier logistics elsewhere.
The hearing in Burbank, led by Sen. Adam Schiff, frames the debate in stark political terms: it’s a fight for a federal tax incentive that could lure productions back stateside. As Schiff put it, the urgency is overwhelming, and he pointed to consolidation—like the proposed Paramount Skydance pursuit of Warner Bros.—as a destabilizing factor that could further erode a U.S. production base already under pressure. What makes this particularly fascinating is how a single potential merger is read through the lens of a broader policy moment. If consolidation is happening at the top, does it accelerate the brain drain away from the U.S. or does it catalyze a unified policy push at the national level? In my view, the answer hinges on whether federal policymakers can offer a credible, comprehensive framework that makes the U.S. financially competitive without erasing the diverse ecosystems that exist across states.
The voices on the ground aren’t shy about what’s at stake. Noah Wyle, a high-profile believer in the federal incentive approach, frames subsidies as an investment not just in productions but in communities—the people who live in the cities and towns that host shoots and the small businesses that rely on fertile filming grounds. His point about The Pitt—receiving a 20 percent California tax credit and shaving millions off the first-season budget—illustrates a broader truth: incentives don’t just pad a balance sheet; they determine whether a show can exist at all in a market where costs are rising and competition is global. What many people don’t realize is that even a modest credit can ripple through the economy, sustaining jobs from catering to carpentry and dry cleaning. If you take a step back, it’s clear that these incentives are not vanity perks; they’re the backbone of a localized economy built around storytelling.
Labor unions have been hammering this from a different angle. IATSE has long argued for a federal approach because state subsidies, while helpful, aren’t enough to sustain a national industry with global ambitions. Since 2022, below-the-line hours have fallen sharply, and the U.S. has ceded a growing portion of global production to other shores. This isn’t merely a matter of cost. It’s about the reliability of a domestic pipeline—the predictability of where, how, and under what terms shoots can occur. If you read the data through a longer lens, the decline in domestic production signals a potential erosion of the United States’ cultural influence in an era where streaming and global distribution amplify a single show’s reach far beyond its local footprint. The takeaway: when policy doesn’t keep pace with industry dynamics, the people who actually make the content get squeezed first.
The looming question about 30-picture slates is a perfect microcosm of the policy dilemma. If those films are destined to shoot abroad due to subsidies elsewhere, the claim that the U.S. remains the home of Hollywood loses its argumentative force. The counterargument—backed by industry advocates—is that a robust federal incentive could redraw the map, bringing shoots back to American soil and reinvigorating hometown economies. Yet the practical challenge remains: money alone won’t fix structural issues—labor efficiency, union agreements, and long-term tax policy all play roles in shaping where a film actually lands. As Matt Loeb of IATSE notes, a pledge is meaningless without tangible, on-the-ground execution and a credible, replenishing flow of productions.
A broader reflection is warranted: incentives, consolidation, and geopolitics are colliding in a way that forces the industry to rethink its relationship with the state. What this moment highlights is a tension between a free, competitive market and a political economy that is increasingly comfortable coordinating subsidies and strategic investments to preserve cultural capital. What this really suggests is that Hollywood’s future might hinge less on glamorous auctions of film stars and more on a savvy, bipartisan approach to funding, workforce development, and regional development. The perceived inevitability of talent and production fleeing: it’s not a foregone conclusion if policymakers act decisively and credibly.
Deeper implications emerge when you connect these debates to broader trends. The U.S. is up against a world where nations compete on subsidies, tax terms, and streamlined permitting. If America wants to maintain its edge, it must translate intent into action—funding, administration, and a credible plan for workforce training that aligns with modern production realities. What this means in practical terms is a federal framework that harmonizes tax credits with labor standards, local hiring, and regional incentives so shoots don’t have to jump borders to stay afloat. It’s a tall order, but not an impossible one, provided there’s political will and a willingness to anticipate industry shifts rather than chase them.
In the end, the story isn’t only about where films get made; it’s about what kind of national narrative we want to support. Do we want a landscape where the U.S. remains a top-stage for storytelling because government policy makes sense for studios and workers alike, or do we accept a world where the cultural economy migrates to countries with cheaper or more favorable regimes? Personally, I think the answer should be clear: invest in a policy environment that validates American storytelling as a strategic national asset, not a peripheral industry. What matters most is not a single tax credit, but a coherent, durable strategy that treats filmmaking as a public good—one that benefits workers, communities, and the national imagination alike.
